


I See the Light

by suitsflash (bikeross)



Series: Supernatural Fairy Tales [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Destiel, Disney AU, Loki is Gabriel, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Tangled AU, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-15 17:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16937811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikeross/pseuds/suitsflash
Summary: When Jack is sick, Gabriel decides to regale him with bedtime stories.The first is a story of a young prince trapped in a tower, and the charming bandit who steals his heart.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwiftEmera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiftEmera/gifts).



> THIS IS FOR MY DARLING AMIE. HAPPY BIRTHDAY. IM SORRY ITS UNFINISHED. I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT. I WILL KEEP WRITING THIS WEEK. HOPEFULLY IT'LL BE DONE NEXT YEAR. 
> 
> Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are my own.

Gabriel watches as Sam’s brow creases in worry over Jack. He’s coughed fitfully in his sleep for the third night in a row. There’s no cure--nothing they can find in the lore. And how could they?Jack’s a nephilim--one of the few of his kind. Prohibited by their father as an abomination. There’s no lore on them. 

But he can’t abandon his nephew. So he sits with him, trying to at least use his own grace to keep him alive. He’s taken up vigil for the night, his hand resting on Jack’s forehead, trying to offer him some kind of support. 

“How is he?” Dean asks stepping into the room, followed by Castiel and a tray of soup. 

Sam sighs and shakes his head and Gabriel huffs in frustration. 

They’re at their wits end, and the only thing they can think to do is find a way to make Jack as comfortable as possible while Rowena and Mary hunt down a possible cure. 

Even though he was sired by Lucifer, Jack is anything but an angel. At least in the truest terms. He’s innocent, and kind, and most of all, questions everything and genuinely strives to make the world a better place. He’s the best of humanity and Gabriel will fight for him. 

Hours pass, and the three of them immediately rush over to the bed when there’s a slight groan coming out of Jack’s lips. 

“Hey kiddo,” Gabriel says, armed with a glass of water. 

Jack takes the glass to his lips and sits up on his elbows as he chugs it down. His eyes fall upon the soup Castiel brought, and after a quick use of his grace, it’s piping hot again. 

“How are you feeling?” Sam asks, his voice tender as he rests a hand on Jack’s leg. 

Jack shrugs, his eyebrows knitting together. “Kind of how I’d imagine I’d feel if someone drove a truck over me?” 

There’s a faint chuckle but it disappears to an all encompassing silence which threatens to press over them all.

As it surrounds them, invading every space between breaths, Dean brings his hands down over his thighs, letting the sound cut through the oppressive silence. “Well, looks like we should get back to it,” he says. 

Gabriel’s impressed. Dean’s never seemed this interested in the lore. But when Castiel follows soon after, he realizes the lore might not be the only thing Dean’s itching to get his hands on. Good for him. 

He waggles his eyebrows at Sam who responds with his shoulders dropping. 

Looks like he’s not going to be able to have his own fun at the moment. 

Huffing out a sigh, he leans back in his chair, crossing his feet at the ankles at the foot of Jack’s bed. 

“Y’wanna hear a story?” Gabriel asks. 

Jack’s eyes widen and he immediately turns his full attention to Gabriel. “A story?”  
Gabriel shrugs. “What can I say. I’m feeling chatty. What are ya in the mood to hear Jackie boy?” 

“Do you know any fairy tales?” Jack asks.

“Well my life is basically a fairy tale, so,” Gabriel trails off. “I could tell you about the time I died.” 

Sam makes a strangled noise of surprise and his eyes narrow. 

He responds to that with a fond wink, kissing the side of Sam’s head as he does. “Relax Samm-O, it’s fiction. Mostly. But yeah, Sam’s in it--and Dean-o, and I guess I could throw Cassie in there.” Gabriel lists off. 

And though it’s clear Sam wants to protest, Jack’s eager and joyous expression causes him to relent. 

“Okay I’ll bite,” Sam says. “What’s the story?” 

He puts down his own book and leans back in his chair. 

Gabriel clears his throat and sits forward. 

“Once upon a time, a single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens, and in its place, grew a flower. Now this wasn’t any old flower, oh no. It was a magical flower, and could cure anyone of anything. It brought life and health to anyone who asked for magic. But it was discovered by a demon who wanted to use the power for himself. 

“He was kind of a douchebag, but remember him, he’s gonna be kinda important later. 

“Anywhoozle, a few dozen epochs passed, and a kingdom grew nearby. It was a good kingdom, and the people were happy. 

“The King and Queen, John and Mary were blessed with a child. But, feeling that their family was incomplete, tried for a second one. 

“A brother for the young prince. But unfortunately, Queen Mary became sick, and on the eve of the new prince’s birth, it was not sure whether or not she would make it.”

Jack’s eyes widened as he took in the story, and Gabriel didn’t need to make a pocket universe. His nephew was already immersed in the story. The pain in his eyes was replaced by wonder and awe. 

“It’s at times like this where prayer wasn’t enough for King John. So he sent out his army. The captain of the garrison, Robert, ordered a search across the land. It was time to find the flower that had only been talked about in hushed whispers and sewn into the Kingdom tapestries.

“Hope seemed bleak, and the crown prince Dean remained at his vigil by his mother’s bedside. 

“What was going to be the addition of more family seemed doomed to take it away. 

Remember that demon I told you about?” Gabriel asks, nudging Jack lightly on the side. 

“Yeah. The douchebag?” 

Sam’s clears his throat. But his expression is fond. He thumbs through the book in his hand, only half paying attention. 

Gabriel laughs, and he nods. “Yeah Jackie, the douchebag. Well you see, instead of sharing the precious gift he found, he kept it hidden and would use the magic for himself, and it worked, keeping him young. But he’d need a magical top up every now and then. And how he did it you might ask? Well there was a spell….” Gabriel trails off, humming under his breath. 

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine. Make the clock reverse, bring back what was once was mine...what once was mine.” 

“Alright you get the gist, he sings to it, turns young; creepy right?

“At the stroke of dawn, however, the garrison found it the flower of eternal life. And much to the evil demon’s chargrin, they plucked it carefully from the ground and brought it back to the kingdom. 

“Benny, the palace cook, made a stew imbued with the magic of the flower and as soon as Mary touched it to her lips, a bright light shone around her and she healed, giving birth to a healthy baby boy.” 

“Sam!” Jack interjected. 

Sam, who’d been absorbed in the lore, tilted his chin up and there was a mixture of confusion and horror as he realized where this was going. 

“Gabe….” He trailed off. 

“C’mon Sammo, look at how happy he is, give it a shot.” Gabriel argues, his eyes bright. 

And Sam relents, shaking his head as he continues leafing through the book. 

“That’s right, me,” Sam says, his lips quirking up in a fond smile. 

“So before I got interrupted,” Gabriel continues, leaving Sam with an arch of his eyebrow. “The kingdom rejoiced. The King and Queen were happy, and the young bratty crown prince--”

Sam clears his throat. 

\-----  
The Crown Prince was happy most of all. Excited to show his brother the joys of the kingdom of Impala. He hardly left the crib’s side, gleefully telling his brother of all the adventures he would take him on. 

The King and Queen were happy. And they were happy to see their son was happy. 

That night, when the kingdom was asleep, Azazel crept into the baby’s room late at night, determined to find a way to keep the magic for himself. 

He cut a lock of the boy’s hair and hissed when the magic in it faded. But it wasn’t just in his hair. It was imbued into his very soul. So, not knowing what else to do, he reached into the crib and pulled the bundle into his arms. 

c

Unsurprisingly enough, the baby began to cry and that alerted his mother who watched as her son was taken over the balcony and away from the palace. 

The whole kingdom was in shock, and King John sent out his entire garrison to search for the missing prince. 

They never found him. 

For you see, Azazel had found his new flower. And he raised him as his own, determined to keep him hidden away forever. When young Sam asked if he could go outside--Azazel regaled him with tales of monsters and dark shadows determined to kill him. 

He tied Sam’s magic to a flower charm he made sure Sam cared for. It was tied into the magic of the flower and Sam’s life force, mixed with his own blood, it created a way for the two to be bound. The magic from the flower kept the compound he created sealed from all passersby, creating a prison for his child. 

Keeping him locked away forever. 

But the kingdom would search for the next eighteen years--and every year on the young prince’s birthday, they’d release lanterns in hope that one day, he would return. 

\----

Jack’s eagerly listening, though, his eyes are beginning to droop with the fatigue his illness brings him. 

Gabriel sighs and pats his shoulder. “We’ll continue tomorrow okay kiddo?” 

Even though he’s disappointed, Jack nods. “Yeah, I’m--I’m just gonna close my eyes for a few seconds.” 

When he’s asleep, Gabriel turns to Sam, wrapping his arms around him. 

“Rapunzel really?” Sam asks with a laugh. 

Gabriel shrugs, his fingertips trailing through Sam’s hair. “I mean, do you blame me?” 

The only sound he gets in return is a scoff followed by a press of lips to Gabriel’s and Gabriel returns the kiss, 

“Can’t wait to hear the rest,” Sam says when he pulls away to head up to the main room to join Dean and Cas in more research. 

Gabriel remains by Jack’s bedside and a soft smile creeps over his face as he watches Sam head up the stairs.


	2. When Will My Life Begin

Every morning at 7, it was the usual for the young prince Sam. He’d work tirelessly around the small castle where he and his father lived. He’d start on the chores, sweep, mop, do laundry, and because he had everything down to a science; it was finished at 7:15. 

So afterwards he’d work in the stables, cleaning out the horse’s stalls, making sure the horses were fed. He greeted each one personally--after all, not having much human company to grow up with, these were his closest friends. 

They were fond of Sam--though weirdly enough, not so much of his father. 

And Sam never understood why. 

When he completed his morning tasks, he’d begin his studies--reading up on monster lore. His father dabbled in the dark arts, so he had a lot of enemies out there after him. Sam was responsible for making sure that no one would ever harm him. 

Sam took his job seriously, delving deep into the lore, learning how to hunt. (Even though his father never lets him, it’s dangerous apparently). 

When Sam finally finishes his studies, it’s almost midday and time to get food together before his father gets back. 

He tilts his head up and looks at his favorite horse who huffs and pushes his snout against the side of Sam’s head. 

“What do you want to do?” He asks the horse who seemingly responds by gesturing towards the door of the barn. 

While Sam does want to leave the confines of their compound, a fear settles in his heart at the very thought. His father told him about the various monsters out there, and it fills him with dread. 

“Look, maybe you want to leave Pascale,” he tells the horse. “But I’m good here. I promise.” 

The horse huffs in response and Sam’s eyes trail to the window of the barn and he climbs up to the loft level so that he can take a seat in the nest he’s made. 

“Yeah. I know, tomorrow’s lantern day,” he says, stepping over to sit at the large windowsill. The herding dog they have for their sheep bounds up and settles himself on Sam’s lap, setting his snout down to rest on his knee. 

He barks once and growls at Sam’s statement and Sam merely responds with a laugh, his fingertips dragging through the dog’s scruff. “And yeah my birthday too,” he agrees. 

The dog, Bones, huffs and drops his weight down on Sam’s leg again. 

Sam chuckles before giving the sheep dog a scratch behind the ears. He leans back against the open window wondering if this is the year his father will finally let him go see the lights. 

\---

Loki tosses his satchel down the side of the roof before following deftly behind it, waiting for Narfi and Fenrir to follow closely behind them. 

It’s so close, he can practically taste it. The ultimate heist, and then he’ll be able to fund a way out of the kingdom in pursuit of greater riches. 

Among other things. 

Once he gets this crown to the boss, he’ll be free and clear of all his debts and he’ll never have to look back again. 

He stands at the roof, looking out onto the expansive countryside, hand resting at his hip and takes a deep breath. 

“Guys, I could get used to a view like this,” He says, looking back at Narfi with an impish grin. “Yep, it’s decided fellas. I’m gonna get me a castle.” He nods once decisively. 

Narfi rolls his eyes, holding the rope they’ll use to rappel down into the throne room. 

Fenrir huffs and steps forward, beefy hands reaching to grab Loki by the scruff of his shirt. “We finish this job and you’ll be able to buy yourself a castle, but let’s stay on task here.” He pushes Loki towards the sunroof and Loki flails his arms about getting Fenrir’s hands off of him. 

He puffs out his chest and straightens out his collar before he begins attaching the belt around his waist. 

Loki is lowered down moments later, behind the crown prince who’s pacing angrily, at vigil over the royal jewels. 

He drops down behind him, sparing himself a second to mock his intense look as he paces, before he creeps over behind a pillar, waiting for his opening. 

 

The crown prince, who’s wearing the regalia of the royal guard (so the King has been raising him to be a soldier? Nice.), sneezes once and Loki, unable to resist, leans against the pillar. 

“Ugh. Hay fever?” He asks, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile. 

The prince, Dean, if Loki’s remembering correctly, nods. He releases a short burst of air before he chuckles. “Yeah,” he says, wiping his nose. 

The silence hangs for a second before Loki sees it dawning in Prince Idiot’s eyes. He’s not supposed to be here. Like at all. 

“Wait,” he says, drawing his sword. 

Loki murmurs out a small spell and throws a hex bag down on the ground and smoke begins to billow around it, causing everything to be shrouded. Loki is immune, due to the nature of the spell but he can hear reinforcements quickly arriving. Time to make his hasty exit after stealing the younger prince’s crown.

While they all run around looking like headless chickens who somehow still know how to squawk, Loki steps forward and snatches the crown away, giving Fenrir and Narfi the signal to pull him to safety. 

He slips the crown into the satchel and the three immediately begin their hasty retreat. Though it doesn’t take long for the palace guards and the head of the army to come hot on their heels, chasing them through the forest. 

Though Narfi and Fenrir are both silent, intently focusing on the fact that they’re trying to outrun palace guards, Loki takes it all in stride. (Literally)

“Can’t you guys see me in a castle? I could see me in a castle. Gentlemen, look at all the things we’ve seen and it’s not even eight yet!”


	3. Father Knows Best

Followed on his heels by Bones, Sam heads up into the tower where his quarters are. After locking the door with the spell that Azazel showed him, he heads up to his own room. 

“I’m going to do it,” he tells the dog. “I’m going to ask him today.”

Bones whines and tilts his head and Sam kneels down to draw the creature into his arms, kissing his snout and the top of his forehead. “Don’t give me that attitude,” he whispers. “I’m really gonna do it. And I’ll get to figure out the story behind the lights.” 

His heart jumps when he hears the sounds of his father against the magical barrier, and Sam quickly says the counterspell to let him into the tower, letting the door appear and the stairs up to his floor. 

He waits by the archway for his father, practicing his whole speech in his head when Azazel steps inside. Immediately Sam stands up, hands by his side, just how Azazel likes him so he can make sure Sam is keeping himself healthy. 

“Oh Sam,” he says, barely acknowledging Sam’s presence. “Look at the state of this place, I ask you for very little don’t I?” 

“Yes sir,” Sam manages, his jaw set. His hands remain clenched at his sides, but he stops his lower lip from trembling. Men don’t cry. He’s a good soldier. 

“And what are my rules?” Azazel asks, cupping his cheek with a hint of tenderness undercut with an ironclad control. 

“Keep my place clean and keep practicing my magic.” Sam relents, his shoulders dropping as he watches his resolve crumble. After everything his father does to keep him alive--to keep his life force running. The least he can do is obey him. 

“Good boy,” Azazel coos, his fingertip tracing along Sam’s chin, his eyes settling on Sam’s amulet. 

Bones growls from the corner and Azazel’s eyes snap to him, eliciting a whimper from the canine. 

Sam’s chest drops into his stomach as he looks around his wing. He really does keep it clean. The books are tidy, everything’s put away, there are a few places where there’s some dust, but that has to be normal. 

Nevertheless, he feels guilt that he hasn’t managed to keep the place as tidy as he promised his father he would. And now the thought of keeping his dad in a good mood so he can ask about going to the lanterns is all that’s keeping him from defending himself.   
“So...there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” Sam says as he follows Azazel into the chambers. 

His father seats himself in the center of the room, looking at Sam expectantly and Sam kneels in front of him placing his hand over his amulet and another on on Azazel’s hand before he murmurs the incantation, speeding through it to let the powers drain from his body into Azazel’s. 

After the transfer, Sam hunches over on the ground, struggling to catch his breath. It’s getting more and more challenging to heal Azazel as Sam ages, as if his father is drawing more from him. But he’s cursed, and Sam wants to help him. He’s given him everything after all. 

“Oh, Sam,” Azazel says, his fingertips raking through Sam’s hair, gripping it lightly as he pulls him up. “Pull yourself together, a little spellwork shouldn’t be drawing this much out of you. You make me think I haven’t taught you well.” 

There’s a pause as Sam fears he’s going to be punished. One time when he hadn’t had the strength to draw out the spell, Azazel had locked him in the windowless cellar for days until Sam had perfected his strengthening runes. 

But his fears are unfounded when he’s met with a laugh

“Gotcha there,” he says. “Sam. You should learn to react to things with humor. This kind of seriousness is not a good look for you.” Azazel shakes his head and pats Sam on the head. “You know I care about you very much right?” His gaze is fixed on the amulet. 

Sam nods, looking down at the ground. “Uh, yeah. I uh, I care about you too.” 

“Well then that’s good. Now, let’s see what you’ve made for us today,” Azazel says, standing, not caring when Sam is tossed back onto the ground. 

Sam presses his lips together and scrambles up to follow his dad into the kitchen. “Um, so, It’s kind of my birthday,” he says, trailing off and hoping that one year he’d actually remember the date. 

Azazel huffs and shakes his head. “Can’t be right. It was your birthday last year,” he says, checking the stew boiling in the fireplace. 

“Well--uh--birthdays actually kinda come around once a year. Kind of an annual thing,” Sam says, scratching the back of his head. “And I figure since I don’t reallyaskformuchicouldmaybegoseethelights?” 

He rolls his eyes in response. “You know I hate it when you mumble boy, now stand upright and tell me clearly what you want.” 

Sam draws in a breath and straightens his spine. “I want to go see the lights in the sky for my birthday. And I was hoping you’d take me….sir,” he adds, hoping desperately that Azazel will actually give him his wish for one year. 

Azazel however, looks at Sam like he’s grown three heads. “Nonsense Samuel, those are stars. Now is there a reason the stew has beef?” 

“You asked for beef last week,” Sam points out before he steps between his father and the cauldron. “And--no, I’ve tracked the stars for some of those spells. And these are different.” 

With a beleaguered sigh, Azazel places both hands on Sam’s shoulders. “I suppose I knew this was going to happen. After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you thank me.” 

Sam frowns, beginning to feel guilt set in. Though he’s taller than his father, there’s something that makes him feel much smaller than him. 

“I’m just kidding, Sam, you need to stop taking things so seriously,” Azazel points out before clapping his back. Hard. 

Sam follows him into the other room, watching Azazel eat. “So...lanterns?” 

“Yeah, no,” Azazel said. “I don’t have the time to take you. And you know until I find the people out there determined to steal your magic--” He let out a put upon sigh. “Sam. You know how much I care about you right?” 

Sam nods once, sitting down next to his father. 

“Well, it’ll kill me, if anything ever happened to you,” Azazel says. “Consider it a personal fault of mine. But until I find those who are only out to drain you--then we can discuss you going out. Until then, you’re never leaving. So….” and his voice lowers as he digs his nails into Sam’s wrist. “Never. Ask. Again.” 

Sam’s expression softens and he drops his shoulders, guilt rolling over his body. He hates when Azazel gets this way--but it’s usually Sam’s fault when he’s upset. 

And like clockwork, Azazel pushes the bowl of food away. “Well look at that, now you’ve gone and made me lose my appetite.” He stands and the bowl clatters to the floor. “And clean up that mess.” 

“Oh….but you just.” Sam begins to argue. At Azazel’s sharp glance, Sam relents. “Okay, I’m--sorry.” 

His father’s expression softens a touch and he kneels down next to Sam, taking his chin in hand. “Now you’ve made me feel bad. I’ll grant you one thing. Anything you want.” 

Sam stills, his expression softening. The corners of his eyes prickle with tears. 

“I don’t know,” he says trailing off. At Azazel’s irritation at his indecision, Sam puffs up his chest. “Can I have another spellbook? Like the one you brought me from the islands?” 

“But that’s a three day’s journey,” Azazel counters. “Very well Samuel.” He stands, moving to put on his cloak. “I hope you know this is because I care about you my son,” he says. 

Sam nods, feeling his heart plummeting to his stomach. “I know, Father,” he says. He steps over to the warding and slices open his palm, letting the blood drain into the sigil as he opens it up so that he can leave and he watches him go. 

Bones steps down from his bed and presses himself against Sam’s side, releasing a small whine. 

“I know,” Sam says softly. “I know.” 

He’ll have to try for next year.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki stumbles upon a magical clearing in the woods!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it won't be finished by the end of the year, but I'm hoping for biweekly updates at the very least. :D

It’s _over,_ Loki can’t help but think as he stands in the forest, Narfi and Fenrir hot on his heels.

They stop to look at Loki, cocking their heads in confusion.

But Loki isn’t having it. As he stands there, looking at the scene before him, he’s filled with the utter devastation of someone who’s been so wronged at every single turn.

Expression serious, he looks back at them. His hand reaches out to the tree trunk, fingertips curving around the bark. He hangs his head, a tear threatening to fall down his cheek.

Narfi budges first. “What is it boss?” He asks.

Loki sighs heavily. “I just. Don’t. Understand,” he says, his chest heavy with pure and utter sadness.

“Don’t understand what?” Fenrir asks, worry creasing his brow.

Loki pulls the flyer off of the tree and holds it up. “The hair. The. _hair_ ,” he says, pointing to his shoddily drawn visage on the wanted poster. “I swear. Look at you guys,” he adds, showing them the other two drawings. “You’re so handsome. So beautiful. Strong. And your hair. It’s more than just squiggles.”

He groans and drapes himself over a fallen tree. “My life is over boys,” he adds. “Go on without me.” His arm rests over his forehead in an exaggerated swoon.

“I think—it looks fine?” Narfi attempts.

Loki growls in return. He hops up and rolls his eyes as the faint sound of horse hooves in the distance makes itself known. “Looks like we’re about to have some company,” he says, scooting up before beginning to hightail it out of that situation.

He pats the crown in the satchel to his side and kicks off into a run. Turning, he can see Prince Idiot on his steed charging forward.   
“Wow, you’re really attached to this,” he says, before patting his satchel.

The prince growls and rears up his horse, pointing at Loki before he charges.

Glancing back at his compatriots, he kicks off into a run, the grass and leaves crunching beneath his feet.

But he knows that’s not enough, even running at his fastest, Loki’s no match for a horse. So once they get to a gulley in the forest, trapped on three sides by cliff face and with the rapidly approaching sound of horse hooves behind them, he glances up at the height.   
“Quick,” he says, smacking Narfi’s arm. “Give me a boost.”

Not ones to be quickly duped, they both glance at each other, their eyes narrowing.

“No,” Fenrir says, his voice lowering to a thunderous growl.

“What?”

“Give us the satchel first,” Narfi offers, his lips curving up into a smile as he glances at his brother.

Loki, pressed for time, presses a hand to his forehead in a dramatic swoon. “What? You guys? Don’t?.... _trust_ ME?” He sighs. “After all we’ve been through?” And he wishes there were more people around to see his performance. “Wow. I thought--you guys were like my own flesh and blood, my children. I mean, if I were old enough to have children. But...the fact,” and his lower lip quivers, his eyes welling up with tears. “The fact that you can’t even trust me, your own _father_ ….ish. It’s shameful. A _disgrace._ ”

Narfi and Fenrir share a look with each other.

A beat. Silence. And Loki huffs out a sigh. “Ouch,” he says before handing Narfi the satchel.

The brothers lean down to boost Loki up and over the face of the gully.

And Loki realizes he has a not so difficult choice to make as the hooves draw closer, so he artfully slips the satchel from Narfi’s hand over across his shoulder.  

So when they ask for a boost up, Loki peers over the edge. “I don’t know what to tell ya boys. Except. _Trickster_?” He shrugs before pointing at his face and then he catapults himself into a run.

He can hear the guards behind him, Prince Idiot at the helm.

“Cas, we have to get Sammy’s crown--any cost, you hear me?” He bellows as Loki ducks underneath a large tree branch.

“Yes, your highness,” says a voice that’s so familiar to Loki he almost drops the satchel.

He peers up over the root and lo and behold his brother is in full regalia, serving alongside the prince. Interesting. He’ll--have to figure out how he swung that later. But if he’s seen, with his more recognizable coiff (the wanted posters do _nothing_ to make him look like what Cassie’s familiar with), everything might actually be ruined.

He’s in witness protection--

Castiel can’t know that he’s here. He can’t know who Loki is--it’ll destroy the very foundation of his identity.

And yet, he’s filled with longing and guilt. Even though he knows he did the right thing so many years ago, leaving when he did, sending money back every month. It doesn’t stop the longing to be a better big brother.

But all this angst is something that Loki will have to deal with at a later time.

When he’s not being pursued.

He takes a few steps back in order to run away, but misses the fact that he’s at the edge of a cliff, and after a short plummet, followed by painfully rolling down the hill, Loki appears in a small clearing.

There’s--something different about this place. It was hidden, and numerous wardings keep the place out of view. And he’s tempted to turn back, he is. But if his brother or the Prince see him, it’s over. (Man this satchel must be worth something). So he looks for a crack in the wardings, finally finding one behind a curtain of leaves.

Pulling them back, he sees a farm, and a stone house, resembling a tower. (Though not nearly as high--definitely Loki-climbable)

There aren’t any doors around, potentially due to the fact that the place is surrounded by some of the most sophisticated wardings Loki has ever seen, but he could probably make it up to the window. So he tugs on the vines growing around the tower, and they’re strong. He heaves himself up the side of it and climbs.

What feels like _ages_ later, Loki stumbles in, looking around, surprised to find it looking lived in.

Loki’s about to investigate more when he’s suddenly struck on the back of the head.

And all he sees is black.


End file.
